


haunt

by yorkes



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:04:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorkes/pseuds/yorkes
Summary: It happens like clockwork.Davina never reaches her eighteenth birthday. In dozens of ways, she has faced untimely deaths, only to be reborn. For a thousand years, she has been stuck in a cycle of death, with no way out and no memory of her lives before. She's a curse upon Kol Mikaelson, but in that process she's stuck in her own curse as well.(sort of a fallen!au)





	haunt

**Author's Note:**

> Think of this as a Darker Times reboot, but different.
> 
> I wrote the first few paragraphs of this two years ago when I reread a book called Fallen. Fallen, by Lauren Kate, is a very bad book with a pretty interesting concept. The idea of this fic is definitely inspired by Fallen, but obviously has clear differences if you're familiar with it. I recently thought I should give this fic another shot, and I realized I want it to be more than a long one shot. 
> 
> Please please let me know your thoughts! It's hard to write for myself, because I want to write for other people who loved Kolvina as well! If you want to read more, let me know xx

**Mystic Falls, 2010**

 

No one said finding the cure would be easy, but going through hundreds of old letters and documents was starting to take its toll on Elena’s sanity. Everything was blurring together, and she had a serious sense of deja vu. She squinted her eyes to focus on the sketch that fell out of the folded letter she’d just picked up. A deep sigh went through the room when she realized she’d already seen the girl drawn in deep ink. 

“Bonnie, we’ve already seen this,” Elena determined, passing the worn paper over to her research partner. This had to be the fifth stack they were on just on that day, and nothing regarding a cure had popped up. They’d hit a run of old Mikaelson family documents, provided by Rebekah, but the topics covered were mostly of murder, mayhem and the enemies that came along with that. Not much on the cure. 

The letter Elena flung at Bonnie was one of Kol’s addressed to Elijah. It had been a long and very boring note that he was leaving Spain to go to France. She silently thanked the drawing for tipping her off so she didn’t have to put herself through it again. 

“No, we haven’t,” Bonnie said, moving the papers back over to Elena. 

“I swear, I saw this a few minutes ago” Elena promised, jutting her jaw at the portrait, “We need to fix our sorting system.”

“Don’t tell Caroline,” Bonnie muttered, thankful the sorting system’s creator was busy with prom chair duties. Instead of fussing with what they had, simply hoping Elena’s find was an anomaly, Bonnie went to place the portrait in the stack of pictures, paintings, and other visuals they’d uncovered. 

“If she shows up to help, maybe I-” Elena stopped when she realized Bonnie had paused, her eyes flitting between the stack and the portrait in her hand. 

“Does that letter say the year?” Bonnie motioned with her elbow to the letter Elena had cast aside. 

“ _ 1732 _ ,” she read, letting her eyes drift down the page and realize it wasn’t a repeat. This letter was addressed to Rebekah and was just a few short lines. “Oh, my bad, I haven’t seen this. I think I’ve been reading these things for too long.”

“We’ve definitely been reading for too long,” Bonnie groaned, “but, I think you just caught onto something.” She pulled the visuals stack, marked with one of Caroline’s hot pink sticky notes, closer. “Not exactly cure something,” she followed up, causing Elena’s shoulders to drop before she even realized they’d risen, “but something.”

In front of them were two portraits, both inked, of the same woman… though at second glance she looked more like a girl. The girl couldn’t have been older than Elena and Bonnie were. The one on the left, the one from 1732, had no writing on it. The other declared at the bottom that the image was from 1500.

“Vampire,” the girls decided unanimously. 

“What’s your bet? Friend or foe of the Mikaelsons?” Elena asked, studying the girl’s face. 

“Foe,” Bonnie decided.

“Oh, which one?” a voice suddenly interrupted,  revealing itself to be Rebekah. Elena held her breath - in the past few weeks Rebekah had gone from being an enemy to an ally, but every time she was in the room it was like the shoe was just waiting to drop. If they ever actually found the cure, and it was time to decide who got it, that metaphorical shoe would certainly hit the ground hard.

Until then, Rebekah collaborated in the search to keep up to date. 

“This vampire,” Elena told her, pointing to the portraits when the original plopped down on the couch next to her. Rebekah’s proximity made it obvious when she tensed up. That, and, the immediate snatching of the portraits from the table, gave the touchiness of the subject away. 

“Not a foe,” Rebekah quickly said, “and not relevant to the cure.”

Elena eyed her, very obviously questioning. 

“Do you need to hold onto those?” she asked.

“They’re not mine to give,” Rebekah countered, looking at the girl in the pictures. While she was lost in thought, Elena dared a glance over to Bonnie. “Anyways,” she said, placing the images into her purse in a flourish, “I just wanted to drop in to see how things were going. Judging from your findings, you’re off topic. Best of luck!”

And just as quickly as she had entered, Rebekah was gone.  

“That was weird right?” Bonnie whispered. 

“Very,” Elena echoed, eyes resting on the blank spot in front of her where mystery girl had just been.

 

Rebekah snatched up the portraits the second she saw them. 

Back at her temporary residence, she observed them in silence. It had been years since Rebekah had seen that face. The drawings in front of her were taken from drastically different times, but even with artistic differences it was clear the only thing that really changed was her hair style. She was probably around the same age in both the photos too, and from that Rebekah knew they were drawn close to death. Sudden deaths, but not unexpected for the few that knew.

It happened like clockwork. A pretty girl was born somewhere in the world with chocolate brown hair, blue-green eyes, and a bit of a temper. She grew up, but just barely, because by the time she was eighteen the clock had struck its final hour. Once her heart stopped beating, it started up somewhere else. Nine months later, the clock started ticking again.

The timing was never exact because of the varying expiration dates, but Rebekah kept a close enough watch on the years to know the girl was probably about sixteen now. In a couple years she’d be gone, no matter how hard Kol tried to stop it.

The Mikaelsons had a lot of supposed curses. Most of them were just rumors or coincidental happenings construed into something more. There was only one curse that was truly and disastrously inflicted upon them, and barely anyone knew about it. To call it a Mikaelson curse overlooked the specifics, as it was Kol’s curse really, but over its course of a thousand years it had affected each Mikaelson sibling in one way or another.

In the end, it caused nothing but pain, but it was a beautiful curse quite literally. A beautiful curse that always went by the same name. 

Despite all the unbelievable things that went into her existence, what truly amazed Rebekah was that girl’s name. In every life, in every lifetime, there was never a variation. Hundreds of parents, across a millennia of time and a planet of space, decided on one very specific name for their baby girl. Nothing clued them in but whatever force the curse brought with it.  

Davina. Surnames varied, if they accompanied the name at all, but it was always Davina.

Rebekah stared at the portraits with steady but solemn eyes. She was out trying to find a cure for vampirism, an affliction she’d wanted gone for ages, but she knew if Davina had the choice she’d choose being a vampire in a heartbeat. They’d even tried it a few times. It never worked.

She was curse upon the Mikaelsons, but in that process she was stuck in her own curse as well.

Davina never made it past her eighteenth birthday. She had lived nearly a hundred lifetimes, but she never remembered them. 

It was a cruelty Rebekah could not imagine to dream up, and it was a big part of why she so vehemently hated her mother. Esther Mikaelson had sentenced her children to a life in an act of love wrong awry, and at times Rebekah understood her mother’s harsh view of them. What Esther did to Davina was unnecessary, was cruel, and Esther wasn’t even thinking of Davina when she did it. 

  
  


**Mystic Falls, 10th century**

 

What Esther had done to protect her children had unintended consequences. After Henrik, she only wanted to ensure their safety. She never meant to turn her children in killers, never meant to create a whole species of them. 

At first, all she could do was help them. Esther had given up so much to be a mother, it was all she wanted, but that love twisted as she aided them. The daylight rings meant they killed in the day as well as the night. The townspeople already had werewolves to deal with, but now brutal deaths were occuring on days other than the full moon.

Esther could not bear to watch her children succumb to the monstrous side she had given them. Moreso, she couldn’t stop Niklaus from killing. The day Klaus killed meant the day Mikael would know the truth was not far off, and their family did not need any more hardships.

So she poured over her spellbooks, looking for a way to reverse what she’d done. There was nothing, as the vampirism spell was something wholly new. It was complicated, and the cumulation of a dozen different attempts she’d been afraid to try out. The newest part of her spellbook had those spells, but they had all been imperfect. The one she ultimately used was imperfect as well, but she hadn’t known how much so.

Niklaus killed, triggering his curse. Mikael screamed out in rage, demanded his werewolf gene be suppressed. Esther saw the end coming, even in the chaos. Before all of that, she had left her mark on one last person.

One additional, tangential, consequence had a name… always the same name. 

 

Davina’s family had moved around a lot in the New World, and it wasn’t until she got older did she realize why. When she was little she didn’t give much thought to the moves. In between that blissful bubble of youth and harsh reality of adulthood was a special kind of ignorance. It led her to believe her father was just an opportunistic trader; each move to a new faraway village was a change to sell goods.

When her father left one day without them, she realized the moves were never his call. 

There had been whisperings, of course. Davina had heard the word  _ witch  _ come out of a dozen strangers mouths before it came from her own mother. 

“I have a gift, Davina,” she had said, smiling down at her young daughter who just wanted to understand why they were uprooting their lives again. “My gift gives me the ability to create wonders… and it is my ancestors that blessed me with this.”

“My ancestors?” Davina echoed, looking up at eyes that looked just like her own. Her mother nodded her head, but her irises darkened. 

“Not every generation gets the blessings.” 

Davina might have been young then, but the implication was clear; she had not been blessed. 

Her mother moved the two of them one last time. This time they went somewhere that was known to have special inhabitants, a mystical place where those special inhabitants coexisted with those who were ordinary. It sounded wonderful to Davina, whom felt she could barely coexist with her own special mother.

When they got there, it became clear those legendary inhabitants weren’t witches, they were werewolves. The witches still spelled in the shadows, and for the first time Davina saw a small community of them. 

Her mother, like always, chose a life of seclusion. Something about knowing she was not alone obviously appealed to her though. They never moved again. 

It was there Esther took a liking to Davina. The same was true the other way around; Davina liked Esther. Where her mother saw as shell of an offspring, Esther saw potential. From the moment she met Davina, Esther was constantly trying to get her to perform magic.

“I can’t,” Davina always said, “I’m not like my mother”. Deep down she would wish her words untrue.

One time, Esther set a candle down, and had Davina try for hours to light it. Eventually, a spark ignited. Tears filled the young girl’s eyes. 

It took sixteen years, but Davina was a witch after all.

Her mother had been shocked, and there even a small glimmer of pride in her eyes, but she ultimately saw Davina’s late blooming as a bad omen. Her daughter had power, but little at that if it never manifested naturally, without effort. What Davina had hoped would bring her closer with her own mother, brought her closer to Esther. Along with that, came Esther’s family. 

Her own life had been solitary even in the presence of others, and suddenly she was around the Mikaelsons, who were practically a whole tribe. There was the eldest brother, Finn, and after that was a long string of siblings; Elijah, Klaus, Kol, Rebekah, and Henrik.

It was clear Rebekah wanted a sister. When Davina started coming by regularly for lessons from Esther, Bex was always there alongside her. She was one of only two Mikaelson children who inherited magic from their mother, and she was self admittingly disinterested in the whole thing. The days Esther had other things to do, and her lesson meant a spellbook with a page left open, Rebekah was always quick to get distracted. The Mikaelson’s only daughter was, more than anything else, a romantic. She did not want being a witch to get in the way of that. She started taking interest again because Davina was something new, and someone female in a world dominated by brothers. 

One of those brothers, the other sibling to take to witchcraft, was Kol. If there was anything Davina loved more than the magic, it was him.

It was clear from the beginning Davina liked him. Rebekah teased her for it. Whenever he entered the room, whatever spell Davina was working on would be done for. If it was a candle, it flickered out. If it was anything of greater importance, a gush of air usually rushed out the window. Kol never seemed to notice, but one day he started interrupting their lessons by joining in. When Davina finally got comfortable enough around him to spell properly, he started to show off.

One day, neither of the Mikaelson girls were home. Davina had only went by to pick up a herb for her mother, and walked right in as she usually did. Esther wasn’t home like she said she’d be. However, an open, aging, book on was their table that was marked with years of spells gone wrong and right. Hunched over it was Kol. 

“Need any help?” was all she could think to say, forgoing any greetings. It was a weak offer, considering her limited ability for magic. He was only a couple years older than her, but he’d been practicing magic for years. 

There was a pause. Davina wasn’t sure how interpret it at first, but she realized he might not have heard her at all. 

When she went over to see what had him so immersed, she was taken aback. Rather than the typical herbs and potions, was a rather mangled bird. He glanced up, just then noticing her.

“Henrik was playing out in the field, and he found this,” Kol started to explain. “He was just so upset. He brought it back without asking and-”

“He wanted you to save it?” she asked, unable to look away from the dead creature.

“No saving the dead,” Kol said. “I’ve been looking in this damned book for an hour knowing there is nothing I can do.”

“I wonder what makes a bird different from a flower,” Davina thought aloud, eyes caught on the angle of the avain’s neck. It wasn’t until she saw Kol staring at her did she elaborate. “I have been trying for a week to get dead flowers back to life. And that’s just another of you mothers lessons. I know flowers don’t do much, but they live and die. If I can bring a rose back, in theory, shouldn’t I be able to bring anything else back.”

“In theory, maybe,” Kol said, several volumes lower than before. “Never thought about it like that.”

“You could try the spell your mother gave me for the flowers, maybe change a word or two,” Davina suggested. She had it memorized by this point, though it had done little to help her succeed. 

“We could.” Kol gave her an expectant look. 

“Oh… I can’t even bring a single rose back,” she admitted. It didn’t shake Kol, he was still looking at her expectantly.

“You have magic,” he said, as though she had forgotten, “any magic is good magic.” Davina blinked; her mother would certainly disagree, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. “Here,” he pushed up his sleeve, stretched out his hand, and waited for her to do the same. “Any magic is good, but twice the magic is great. We can amplify each others.”

“Kol, I-”

“Davina,” he said, drawing out the syllables. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll just tell Henrik it didn’t work.” His hand was still outstretched, and after just another moment of thought, she twined her fingers through his. 

“Do you know the spell?” she asked. Her back had instantly straightened, she had shifted her body towards the table rather than towards Kol, and she was trying very hard not to focus on her right hand. 

Kol nodded, “let’s change the latin word for nature to animal.” Suddenly, they were chanting in unison. With his free hand, he lightly touched the birds bent wing, jutting his chin to get her to do the same. The moment Davina’s index finger touched the grey feather the change started. 

It took only a minute, but the bird was moving. The sharp edges had softened, and the wings looked as though they’d never been crushed. 

Davina looked up to Kol, and saw another unexpected sight.

Kol Mikaelson was many things, but he presented very little of himself. He liked to draw attention no matter the cost. His smile was always more of a smirk. His gaze was always calculated. Whether it was trying to see a joke landed, trying to see if his mischief garnered glances, or trying to get a spell just right, there never anything soft about his eyes. Even earlier, talking with a clear love for his little brother, his emotion was was filled with anger… almost shame.

But that moment, after that spell, she caught him off guard. There was a softness there that almost startled her. Kol knew she saw it too.

“We did it,” Davina muttered, before Kol could look away. They were close enough that she didn’t need to be loud. By the time he turned back to watch the bird, he had untangled their hands as well. 

As if proving their point, the little bird flew out the window and into the woods.

Davina let out a breath she hadn’t meant to hold.

“We did it,” she repeated, this time for herself. There were dead flowers at in her room waiting to be revived, and there was now a very alive bird soaring through its trees. It was the beginning of winter, and darkness was falling faster than usual, but she looked out the window as if she could still see it.

The world seemed very still, and Kol was silent. Davina couldn’t remember a time he had been so quiet.

He finally broke it by offering to walk Davina back home. 

From there, emotions escalated quickly. If Kol hadn’t kissed Davina on the walk home, if they hadn’t started spending time time together every day, then things would have turned out differently. Davina might not have died, and never been cursed back to life again and again.

Even a thousand years after, Kol would remember every detail of last time he saw Davina before he was turned. At the time, he didn’t think much of it. They kissed a little longer than they should, they murmured a few plans they had for the future, and then Davina had to go back home. That night was a full moon. Over the short year they’d lived in a town with werewolves, her mother had become superstitious when it came to full moons.

That was the night when everything changed. They were young and consumed by love, but no one could have had any idea of how impactful the chain reaction starting that night would be. 

It started with Henrik. A wolf killed the youngest Mikaelson, and all because he’d been out too late. When Davina heard, she went by the Mikaelson house only to see a closed door and boarded windows. There were whispers inside, but no response to her knocking. 

Time. All they needed was time, the townspeople said. Davina chided herself for selfishness; Kol was with his family, and all Davina wanted was to console him herself.

It took less than two weeks for the family to reappear. With it, there was something instrictally different with them.

All his siblings were dealing with bloodlust, Kol knew that, but he could barely put words to the violence within him. He’d never felt anything like it, and it was all pointed to one thing. From the moment the blood first touched his tongue, from the very second he realized what his body was craving so deeply for, it was all consuming. He was the first to snatch the blood Esther brought home those first days after the transformation. There was always horror on her face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Esther was terrified to have her children leave their home. None of her them had hurt anything bigger than a fly, but Esther could make the connection. When she looked at her children, she saw their dark eyes, their fangs, and the veins on their face; at times she barely saw anything she could love.

At some point, they had to get out. Esther stayed at home, frozen, and didn’t even bother to light the candles that night.

Next to his bloodlust, Kol’s thoughts were on Davina. Though deep down, he knew the mistake he was making, the sole person he wanted was to see was her. His legs moved him to her house, through the night, almost without thought.

When she opened the door, it was all over. That early after the transformation, that unprepared to see any living being, he snapped. There was no thought, only instinct, and there was nothing he could consciously do to stop it. 

Davina was dead. No pulse, only a bloodied neck and a glassy eyes. Kol wasn’t even conscious enough of the moment to know how long it had taken, if she had cried out for help. He only remembered snippets of what happened after. 

Sobbing over her dead body, he plead for her to come back. There was no one there to hear his pleas, so he took her back to only person he thought could help. Her blood dripped onto the ground as he carried her back to his house. The coverage of night cloaked them from anyone else, but the moonlight shed just enough light that Kol could Davina’s face.

She had not gone in peace.

 

What had been Esther’s love for her children, simmered with rage. An anger within herself, for the mistake she had made. But also anger at her children, an anger at what they’d become, regardless of the fact she’d done it.

It reached a pinnacle when Kol brought Davina into their home that fateful night. The words tumbled out, an explanation but not an excuse for why Davina was laid on their wooden table, with her neck stained red and broken. He plead through tears, with shouted outbursts every few minutes. He blamed Esther for turning her children, blamed himself for everything else.

Esther mourned her loss of Davina, but she also mourned a loss of some indescribable feeling towards her son. She would always have love her children, but what Kol had done was unbearable. In a moment of snap judgement, she started something infinite.

Kol wanted Esther to save Davina. In that moment, all Esther wanted to do was punish Kol.

 

For a thousand years, Davina haunted Kol, but never as a ghost, never as a vampire, and not even a witch. Davina’s soul was stuck in a constant loop, and she was always as human as could be; always blissfully ignorant of the cycle she was stuck in. By the time she met Kol again (and again and again) in each of her lives, the clock was already ticking.

 


End file.
